


Even In Death

by apocalypticTaurus



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: I don't know what to tag this, Let me just say that it's sad, M/M, be warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 17:31:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocalypticTaurus/pseuds/apocalypticTaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle at Trost, Jean is in charge of disposing of Marco's personal things.</p><p>Based off <a href="http://8059.co.vu/post/75970318555">this tumblr post</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even In Death

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little before note. This was painful to write, too.

It’s been only a day since the cleanup in Trost. Since I found the body of my best friend leaning against a wall, blood soaked, and dead. His face was frozen in such a horrible grimace. No one could identify him but me. He died alone and he would’ve just been MIA if it weren’t for me. Maybe I would’ve felt better if it were that way. I could still have my hopes up that he was alive, that he got away. Of course, I can’t now.

I can feel tears in my eyes as I think about it. Sniffing and rubbing my eyes, I try to suck it up. It’s not time to do this now. I can mourn him later. Right now, I need to keep my mind clear; I have a job to do and it will require all my strength to keep it together as I attempt it.

The job is to dispose of Marco’s personal items. I walk over to the bunk where he slept, crouch down on my knees, and reach underneath; my hand searching around for a little box I knew he put everything in to keep his stuff from getting dusty. Stretching until my face is pressed up against the side of the bed.

“Where is the fucking thing?!” My fingers brush up against something. Hopefully, the box and not the wall. I find the corner of it and use as much strength as my fingers can muster to turn it around and pull it forward enough for me to grab it. I knew his arms were longer than mine, but damn.

Instinctively, I brush the dust of the top. _MARCO_ is scrawled in large letters across the box and my chest hurts as I read his name. I should just go through it away, burn it or something, but I kinda really want to open it. I’m curious to see what Marco has stuffed in this small box.

Quickly, I glance around; checking to make sure no one else is in the room. Nope, no one except me, I guess it wouldn’t be so bad as long as no one else saw, right?

“I hope you don’t mind me doing this…” It feels a little bit like an invasion of privacy, but what could he possibly have kept in here that he didn’t mind me seeing. I carefully lift the top of the box off, leaning it against my leg.

Right on top are a few pieces of clothing. It’s only a couple shirts and a pair of socks, but it doesn’t make sense why they would be separate from his other clothes. The shirts looked a bit too small for him, so maybe he just grew out of them and separated them so they wouldn’t get mixed up with his other clothes. As for the socks, I have no clue. Shrugging, I fold the shirts and put them aside.

The rest of the box is filled with a bunch of different things. “Jeez, Marco, how much shit do you have?” Everything is fairly organized. Enough that when I pull out some little fragments of string, I don’t have to untangle them from anything else. The first thing that catches my eye (aside from the string) is some roles in the corner.

I smile, grabbing at one of them; the outside’s hard and stale. “Stealing from the mess hall, eh? When did you become Sasha?” I shake my head a little, laughing to myself. The bread’s not moldy yet, meaning he had gotten it not too long before we left for Trost. I wouldn’t have taken Marco as a midnight-snacker. What else do I not know about him?

Keeping the pattern of picking something out of Marco’s box of personal belongings, examining it, and carefully placing it aside, I continue to see what few things Marco chose to keep with him after joining the military and things he collected during his time in it. Some things, I knew why he’d kept, but other things were kind of surprising. I had no clue why he had kept a random swatch of clothing. A few times, I have to stop; some things in the box bring back painful memories.

After a while, there were only a few things left in the box and I had a small pile of little pieces of my best friend beside me. I reach into it and pull out some pencils, followed by about three pieces of paper. Nothing’s written on them. Both sides are completely blank. I’m sort of embarrassed by my disappointed feelings and expression. “Don’t worry, Marco. I wouldn’t’ve read your personal stuff even if it was addressed to me.”

Only two things are left and, of course, my hand immediately goes for the sealed letter. I stare at it for the longest time, unmoving. I tell myself that I won’t read the letter. I won’t even try and see who it’s addressed to. Of course, though, I only tell myself this because by the time I finish thinking it, I’m already flipping it over. Immediately, I regret my decision because in written in neat letters across the makeshift envelope is _JEAN_.

My heart drops and my mind is filled with questions and I am unmoving. What is this? When did he write it? What is it about? Why is he writing to me? Why was it hidden under all his things? Why didn’t he just tell me whatever is in this rather than writing it down? When was he going to give it to me? Was he going to give it to me at all? What is written inside?

I want to drop the letter, but my fingers won’t let go. The paper feels like it’s burning my skin and I want to cry, overwhelmed. I don’t even know what’s written within this envelope. Why is it making me feel so horrible? Maybe it’s the fact that I want to open it so badly. I want to rip it open and see what was so important it needed to be written to me rather than spoken. Soon, my curiosity becomes too strong and, partially against my will, I am tearing the letter open.

“Sorry, Marco. I guess I spoke too soon.” I try to joke, hoping it will make me feel better. It doesn’t. Sighing, I pull the letter from the envelope and unfolded. I glance around the room just to check and make sure no one’s in here. It hasn’t been long since I last checked, but I had to make sure. I’m not going let anyone catch me; that would be so embarrassing. Plus, I have to take Marco’s feelings into consideration here. How would he feel if just anyone went through his stuff without asking? Except me, I don’t count. Plus, I did ask…kinda…

I look back down at the letter after _thoroughly_ making sure no one was in the room. Marco’s handwriting is so neat. Each letter falls into place as if it were written with lines underneath to make sure everything stayed in place. My chest hurts again. I shake my head. Snap out of it, Jean. If you’re going to actually go through with this, do it already.

_Jean,_

_You’re going through my stuff aren’t you? I expected that much. That’s why I wrote this._

What a weird thing to say.

_You’re probably confused. Let me explain. For the past month or so, I’ve had this feeling. A feeling I was going to die soon._

The past month? That makes me go back and look at the date written at the top. I shiver. He wrote this only a day before. My chest hurts and I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. He felt like he was going to die. He knew what was going to happen. Yet, he still helped out people like Daz calm down. I never realized before how selfless Marco really was.

_The feeling never left me. Not when the Colossal Titan appeared and put a hole in Wall Rose. Not when we were stranded and low on gas. Not when executing Armin’s plan in the warehouse. I felt like I was going to die, sometime in the near future. And if you’re reading this, then that probably means I was right. Either that or I lived and just decided to give this to you on a whim after I talked to you about what it says first. Of course, if you found this at the bottom of my box, that means that I am, well, not standing with you and this is the first time you’ll be learning about what I’m going to say._

“Marco… you felt like you were going to die.” I don’t realize I’m speaking aloud until I’m finished. “Is that why you-?” Realizing and remembering. My hand came up to cover my gasping mouth. _“Thanks! I only got out because of you.”_ He had told me after my split second decision. Was that a reason why he followed my reckless decision? Because he felt like he would die? Because he didn’t want to? I feel like I’m going to vomit.

_You know, Jean, you’re my best friend. Sure I made friends with the others, but you’re the one I got closest, too. Even if I’m not right there beside you, you’re still my best friend. I feel like I can tell you anything, yet, why is this so hard to put into words. I guess it’s the fact that I am writing a letter with the purpose of making sure that you know this if I die. Heh, sounds pretty dumb when it’s write it in words, doesn’t it?_

“Marco, please, get on with it, because I can’t handle much more.” I try a little joke again. It doesn’t help the pain in my chest and stomach.

_What I’m actually trying to say though is hard to put into words. I guess the best way would just be to come out and say it._

_Jean Kirschtein, I am in love with you._

“I- What?” It’s not even a whisper. I gasp in and try to hold back everything that’s trying to burst out of me right now. I’m less surprised by this and more sad that I didn’t know before...

_That’s it. That’s what I had to tell you. I kind of wish I could be telling you in person, but under the circumstances of this letter…  Normally, I would’ve just kept it to myself but with that feeling nagging at me, and how I felt toward you growing stronger every minute. I had to make sure you knew, no matter what happened to me. And just as you’ll still be my best friend, I’ll still have feelings for you. Because, well, I said it before, I love you, Jean Kirschtein._

I’m trying my best not to cry now, but it’s extraordinarily hard. I can see a small wet spot on the paper where a tear or two managed to make it out. This is painful and I don’t want to read anymore, but I force myself to.

_I love your voice and the way you walk and how your hair is two different colors. I could write pages upon pages about the things I like about you, but I won’t. That’s not the purpose for this letter. Maybe if I find the time to do it after tomorrow, I will, but if I don’t make it until then, I just leave those three. Please, don’t stop being you. Even if I’m gone, join the Military Police and live a happy, safe life._

I scream. It’s frustrated and loud and painful. “How can I even think of joining the Military Police without you, Marco?” I cry. “We were going to go live happily and safely together.”

_Lastly, if I do die tomorrow, let me say, Goodbye. It was such a pleasure to be your friend. And, even if you don’t reciprocate my feelings for you, I’m glad you at least know now. And hey, who knows, maybe we’ll meet again in another life and get another chance at being together longer. And maybe then, titans won’t roam the earth and we won’t be confined to these walls. Maybe we can go see all that stuff Armin always talks about. What do you think about that?_

_Marco._

I can’t handle it anymore. I can’t keep it in; I break down. A sob wracks through my body and I grip the paper so tight that I feel like it could rip any second. “Why him? Hm? Why’d it have to be Marco?” I almost scream. My chest hurts and I don’t want to move. I just want to sit here and die. Trying to calm myself down and hold it all in, I take deep breathes. In and out. In and out.

The empty room is so quite except for my breathing and I just sit there, staring at the letter. Eventually, I fold it up about four times and stick it in my pocket. I can’t just leave it. It is virtually the last thing Marco said and I can’t just dispose of it. I don’t want to get rid of any of his stuff, but I have nowhere to keep it and I can’t just leave it here. Sighing, I look back at the little box. Oh yeah, there was one last thing. A little bracelet.

“Is this what you did with the string I found earlier?” I hold it in my hands, flipping it over and examining it before tying it around my wrist. “It’s okay if I borrow this, right?” I smile sadly and slide my sleeve down over it. Hopefully, no one will see it and I won’t get into shit over it. And that’s it. There’s nothing else. I breathe in deeply and let out a shaky sigh. That’s it. That’s all that’s left of him. I work on packing everything back into the box, but stop at the shirts and put them aside before closing it up.

“If they were too small for him, then maybe they’ll fit me.” I sigh. I want to keep every piece of him possible. Stuffing the box and the shirts under my arm, I stand and walk out of the room. All I could think about was that letter. Marco said he loved me. And you know what?

I think I loved him, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah....  
> Well, I hope you liked it.  
> Also, I have a tumblr [here](http://sassytherivergoddess.tumblr.com).


End file.
